Tightrope
by nikistypingthings
Summary: Honestly, she should be afraid. I mean, if I can kill my family with out a single thought, then what is stopping me from hurting this chick? I clench my hands into fists, hearing the clinking of the metal bracelets as I walk. Ah, right. The handcuffs. Warning: Course language.
1. Patient A

**A/N: Heyyo, long time no see. I've been battling with this story for a while now, seeing as though it's been written out for over three months, but I just now got the courage to post it. With that, I must give a shout out to** ** _Deus Praetigiatores_** **for forcing me to grow a pair and put this out there. Plus, once I reach six chapters of this, he owes me a story for any fandom I choose, which is super exciting. Anyway, enjoy. - Nikki-J**

Tightrope

"Don't worry! You'll be fine here. They'll help you get better and you will be back home in no time!"

The service worker gently guides me to the brick building. Her touch is soft, almost hesitant, as though she's afraid I will explode any second. Honestly, she should be afraid. I mean, if I can kill my family with out a single thought, then what is stopping me from hurting this chick? I clench my hands into fists, hearing the clinking of the metal bracelets as I walk. Ah, right. The handcuffs.

That was a smart idea on their part, though the only one as far as I'm concerned. None of the other decisions made by the courts were the least bit intelectual. An asylum, really? I killed people! My family to be exact. But no, 'he is a young white boy with some obvious mental issues, let's give him the chance to work through them in a mental institution.' Idiots. If I was in their positions, I would have thrown myself into prison in a blink of an eye. Life sentence, no parole. I think that's a suitable punishment for murder.

Walking through the doors of the building was shocking. Everything was white, making the place seem even more ridiculous than it already was to me. What part of white is soothing? This much white could be a mental hazard, erasing all that you knew about beauty and light and replacing it with a dull, clean color. If I wasn't already insane, then this atmosphere that these idiots set up surely would have pushed me over the edge.

I'll admit it. I am flat fucking crazy. I have no problem hurting people for things that I see as a wrong move. But they bring it upon themselves. See, I don't like people in general, but what really gets under my skin are people who pretend they understand you. That's my issue with this idiotic social worker. She pretends that she knows your exact motives and how you think and what you are going to do, but in reality all she does is put words in your mouth and tells you the universal truths instead of your own.

"Of course! Alright Ciel, if you would please follow me." A lady's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I stare at her for a moment, looking over her plump figure and thin blonde hair that only reaches her chin, making the loud makeup on her face all the more loud. I raise an eyebrow and smirk, taking a step towards the lady. Her smile falters as she turns to lead me down one of the many white hallways picking up a clipboard on her way out. I watch as she pulls out her key card to unlock the metal barred wall that blocked us from moving forward, then proceeded to a solid metal wall where she typed in a code on the keypad, opening another door that allowed us to continue on.

"This is where you will live for the duration of your stay here. There are six other patients that will be living here with you." She leads me to a door with a plaque that read "Patient A" on it. She typed in yet another code that caused the door to emit a loud buzz and click, unlocking it. She opened the door and walked in, motioning for me to walk in with her. "This is your room. The door will be locked from curfew at 10 pm to 7 in the morning, when you will receive your first round of medications for the day. The next round of medication will arrive with breakfast at 10 in the morning, then at 1 with lunch, 4 with a snack, 7 with supper and 10 before bed. Medication is mandatory and we will check to make sure it was taken."

I can't help but roll my eyes at this. There are so many ways to trick people into thinking that you have taken the medication when you really haven't so this is definitely not something I need to worry about. I take time to look around my room, admiring the white walls decorated with grey shelves and a white and grey bed pushed against it. Directly next to the door is a analog clock that read 5:14, the second hand ticking with every passing moment.

"Okay, I believe that is all you need to know right now." The lady looks down at her clipboard, "According to your chart you will have a daily session at 6 o'clock in the evening with Doctor Michaelis, though that might change due to his thoughts on the issue. You may go out to the common room and meet your new roommates. Good day, Mr. Phantomhive" The plump lady saw her way out, leaving the clipboard on a rung next to the outside of my door. I take a look at the contents of the clipboard, reading the first line. 'Patient A in Section 1: Highly Dangerous.' I chuckle to myself. Damn right.

Tightrope

I walk around the compound until I find a bunch of kids sitting around on grey couches in yet another white room.

"Look! A newbie!" One of the kids exclaim from the bunch. He stands up and walks over to me. I give the boy a once over, admiring his blonde hair that went with his stereotypical bright blue eyes. He was slightly taller than me, which was only a little bit irritating, seeing as though almost everyone was taller than me with the exception of young children.

"I'm Alois, aka Patient B, aka Highly Fucked Up. Any of those titles will do. You are?" Alois giggles, sticking out his hand. I look at the hand with a nearly disgusted expression on my face, with the main intent to stir a reaction out of the blonde. I look back up at his face.

"Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive." Alois looked at his rejected hand and brought it back to his side, but still had a stupid grin plastered on his face. He looked me in the eye.

"So, I guess you are Patient H. Well, that means that you are the least intimidating here, making you not my problem. So, friendly advice, leave me alone, kay?"

At this, I laugh. I tried to keep it in, I really did, but this was funny. Anyone who thinks they are better than me in any way makes them instantly beneath me, because they obviously aren't. "Some friendly advice, huh?" I laugh. "Well, let me offer a piece of my own, kiddo. I'm Patient A. Now I'm not sureif that makes me crazier than you or not, and frankly I do not care, but f there is anyone to leave alone, it's me, got it? I have absolutely no conscious, making it 10 times easier for me to kill you without another glance. Now, think before you speak. It might come in handy next time." I chuckle.

The blonde stands in awe, with big eyes that were almost as large as plates. I watch as he mentally shakes himself straight to regain his composure, then glaring me in the eye. "It does not matter what letter you are! _I_ was here longer, _I_ killed my brother. Hell I killed my whole village. And _I_ have absolutely no problem putting a little brat like you in your place." At this I laugh harder.

"Are you really going to test me before understanding my own abilities and stories? You are a fool, a speck of dirt under my shoe." At this he gasps, pulling back his arm in an obviously threatening motion, then launching it forward at me. I move to block his weak attack, but the punch was already intercepted.

I look up at the person who so rudely interrupted my first fight in the lovely white institution to see a tall man in a white lab coat. His slightly messy raven black hair framed his face pretty damn well, and those crimson eyes weren't atrocious either. Said man looked down at me with a disappointed look on his face, which pissed me off. I mean, the guy doesn't even know me! Don't give me that, 'I thought you were better than this' look. The man turns and looks at the blonde bastard who's hand was still caught in the raven's grip.

"Alois. I am pretty sure fighting is not tolerated here. You know better. I am quite disappointed that you picked a fight with a kid who hasn't even been here for a full hour. Go to your quarters until our session." Alois stuck his tongue out in an immature fashion and stalked back to his room once the raven loosened his grip. The raven turned his attention back to me.

"It is time for our session, Mr. Phantomhive. Let's go." The raven gently puts his hand on my shoulder, this is the second time today someone has treated me like a time bomb. I shrug his hand off and motion for him to lead the way. I don't need people's pity.

Tightrope

The raven's office seriously surprised me. The walls were a pale blue and his furniture was brown. His desk was messy and cluttered as were his bookshelves, which bugged me to no end. Yeah, I'm OCD. Just another one of my adorable quirks. I watched as the raven walked in and sat at his desk, taking a folder out of the bottom drawer and flipping through it.

"So, my name is Sebastian Michaelis. I will be your psychologist during your stay here. What is said in here stays in here and won't be told to any other staff or patients. This is a safe place to talk about the issues that plague you. Do you have any questions about this process or anything you would like to make me aware of before we start?"

For a flip second, I take my eyes off of the man's unkempt desk "Yes, in fact, I do. Your desk is going to be the end of me. I can't concentrate on a word that comes out of your mouth until that mess is cleaned up." I glare at the mess on the man's desk. How could someone let things get so messy, and not even bat an eyelash? It just boggles my mind.

The raven flips through the file some more, "Ah yes, your file does say that you have a strong case of obsessive compulsive disorder. Well, if you have such a problem with my office, why don't you clean it up for me? This way, I get a clean desk and you get a clean mind." I know, this isnt a fair set up. I have to do all the work while he gets to laugh at me. But it's literally tearing me up.

"Fine." I reach up to grab the folders that were scattered across his desk.

"Ah, I will take those." My shrink reaches his hands out for the files. It was only then that I decided to take a good look at their labels, _Ciel Phantomhive, Alois Trancy, Michael "Joker" Ray, Alejandro "Snake" Sampson, William "Jumbo" Jones, Peter Mason, Wendy Mason, Savannah "Beast" Davlin, Charlie "Dagger" Shadix._ These must have been the names of my fellow inmates.

"Oh, looky here! I wonder what Mister Alois Trancy has done to get stuck in this hell hole." I begin to open the folder before the file was snatched out of my hands. I glare up at my shrink. "I was reading that."

"And you know that you aren't allowed to. Those are private, for my eyes only. Absolutely none of your business Mr. Phantomhive." Dr. Michaelis tapped the folders on the desk in a vain attempt to straighten them before placing them in a draw in his desk. "Now, as you clean, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

I grab a bunch of miscellaneous items and straighten them out, putting the writing utensils in the pencil cup and the papers in a neat pile. "Go for it shrink man. I have nothing to hide." I brush off any crumbs and wrappers from the desk.

"Alright. I know you killed your family. Why?" I smirk and plop myself back into my seat.

"Straight to the point, I like that. I killed them because they deserved it. They were murderers. So, I gave them what they deserved." I cross my legs and tilt my head.

"Murderers? What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. They killed people. People who kill others deserve to die."

"But you killed them. Do you feel as though you deserve to die?" Dr. Michaelis grabbed a pen and a notebook, waiting for my response.

"Of course! Did you not hear me? People who kill deserve to die themselves." I watch my shrink scribble on the pad of paper. "That's why I believe the court was so stupid in their decision. Why let a murderer go free? No wonder this country is such a mess." Michaelis looks up at me and sighs.

"I believe they let you go free because they saw potential in you. They feel as though you can be rehabilitated. They see you as a smart kid, someone who can overcome their bad decisions."

"Well they are stupid. I did it because I knew that I was already long gone. I'm psychotic!" I glare at the idiotic man in front of me. How come no one gets it? How come no one understands?

"I don't believe that, Ciel. I think you are perfectly sane. Sure, there might be some psychological issues, but believe me, for I have had my fair share of experience with crazy people. You are not like any of them in the slightest."

"You are just as stupid as the rest of them. I don't deserve to breathe after what I did. I don't deserve a second chance. No one deserves a second chance after committing a murder." My glare sharpens. "If I am not crazy, why did I kill my parents? No sane child would do such a thing. No sane child would do such a thing _and not feel guilty about it_. I am in no way, shape, or form sane, Doctor. I am thoroughly fucked up."

"Everyone is fucked up, Ciel. Each of us have our issues in our own ways. But you aren't crazy. You don't feel guilty because you feel as though your actions were justified and that by killing them you were saving more people, am I right? And if you were psychotic, you would not have let Alois walk away from that skirmish unharmed."

I sat in silence. He got it. He understood my motives. No one thought like that. Not when it comes to me. They all told me I was crazy. They all said that I had a mental condition that prevented me from being able to feel guilt and to choose right from wrong. But he got it. He didn't tell me some universal truth. He told me my truth. He doesn't think I'm crazy. He thinks I'm sane. He got it.

I stare at him in awe. "I...then what's wrong with me? There has to be some sort of problem with me, with my mind."

"Nothing is necessarily wrong with you, Ciel. You just have a different way of thinking. No way of thinking is right or wrong. Thoughts are us, they are our justification, our ways of solving problems. Your way of solving problems is making sure the problem never comes back, hence your conclusion to kill your parents.

"Now since not a lot of people think the way you do, your actions are considered "wrong" by society, but others who do think like you would say that your intentions were pure and your actions were correct. Unfortunately though, those people are few and far between which means that your way of thinking will not be accepted by the majority. Because of this, the only way to rehabilitate you in the way that the court wants is to change the way you think."

"That is ridiculous! This is all ridiculous! Change the way someone thinks? Impossible. And not just because it's physically impossible, but because I wouldn't let you alter a thing about me. If I'm not crazy, why would you have to do anything?"

"I personally think that the whole concept is wrong, but that doesn't make it impossible. The main way to, to a point, successfully change the way you think would be through electro-shock therapy, which I am completely against. The idea of punishing one for how they think and function by electrocuting them is inhumane and one I'd rather not possess, but it needs to be done in order to be able to deem you ready to go back into the real world in the courts eyes."

"No. No. There is no way in hell I would let anything like that happen. Besides, I shouldn't be back in the real world. I murdered my family for godsake. Who in their right minds would let someone like that back on the streets? Maybe it's them who needs to be locked up in here, not me." I can't help but direct my anger towards him. This whole thing is pretty damn messy for someone who is allegedly "not insane."

"Maybe so, but they aren't the one's here. You are. I am afraid our time is up for today. You will be prescribed the standard antidepressants for now, taken twice a day after breakfast and dinner. Thank you Ciel, you are now dismissed for dinner." Michaelis shuffled his papers in his hands before tapping them on his desk to straighten them and slipping them into my file.

I get up with a huff and make my way out of the stupid office. I'll show that raven just how crazy I really am.


	2. The Mad House

**Hey guys. I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to update and isnt as long as the other one, but mind you, I had been working on that chapter for about a year before uploading it. so, three months isnt as bad in comparison. I'll try to get better at it, but it's a lot harder to write it on my phone rather than one of my school computers. Anyway, enjoy! Nikki-J**

Tightrope

They came at night, slowly creeping into the house under the cover of darkness. Not even the moon dared to illuminate them, for that night the moon's normal shine was no where to be found. So in they went, footsteps quiet and breathing hushed. Nothing could ruin their plan.

They split up into two groups; one for him, one for her. His group stealthily went into his room, sliding next to his bed, and slipping a soaked cloth over his nose and mouth. He barely struggled, going limp after a few seconds of thrashing. Her group did the same, and both groups gently grabbed their victims and snuck out of the house and back to their van, placing their victims on the bench in the back, buckling them in, and seating one of their captors next to them to keep watch.

They drove for hours before stopping at an abandoned factory. The captors brought the sleeping children inside and placed them on tables, strapping their ankles and wrists to the corners. They put blindfolds on them and gags in their mouths, then left the room. He was the first to wake. He thrashed and he cried, completely bewildered by his situation. 'Wendy, dear God, please let Wendy be okay,' he sobbed inwardly as he was unable to speak out loud. Then he heard her struggling to his left. Her whimpers cut him like a knife because he knew he couldn't comfort her. The door to their room creaked open. No words were said, no matter how many muffled screams and protests were made. The group simply just stood there, watching their victims with slight amusement and malice.

Then one made a move. He slinked forward with a knife in hand, tracing it up and down her body before cutting off the blindfold. Her eyes blinked open, tears falling uncontrollably. He couldn't help but smirk. He wanted the kids to feel the pain and suffering he felt, even if it wasn't their faults. But he didn't want this to be easy. He didn't want to cut them apart, limb by limb, and make the boy suffer. No, he wanted them to have a pain worse than grief. He wanted him to feel the pain of being helpless, the pain of feeling out of control. He didn't cut them up. He didn't slice them open. He didn't shock them until their minds fried. No, he forced them to drive themselves mad.

He removed each blindfold and each gag. He hung a hoses from the ceiling, right above her head, and let water leak out of it, drip by drip. Then he removed the boy from the table, forcing him into a chair next to his sister, strapping him into it and buckling him in. Nothing more, nothing less. He wanted them to feel frustrated, to feel weak, to feel powerless. Especially him. He did. And each drop of water ripped a small piece of their sanity away. First they screamed, then they cried. Now she is nothing. Nothing but a shell of what she used to be. And he is broken. Ripped up inside, devastated, and insane.

They sent the mess they created back home. Their parents hearts filled with joy at the return of their beloved children, but were quickly broken when they realized what their babies had become. A mindless vessel and a broken doll. They didn't speak. Their faces remained stoney and expressionless as though they were blank canvases. Then night fell. They tried to send him away by himself, but the moment they separated, she threw a fit. He said over and over that he couldn't get better unless she did too, so off she went with him. Off to Cirque Psychiatric Home.

Tightrope

I hate new people. They are annoyingly clueless and rude. This new kid is no exception. He doesn't understand how the system works here, but he acts as though he owns us all. Ciel Phantomhive needs a swift kick to the jewels. Maybe that will put him in his place. Honestly though, as long as he leaves Wendy alone, we'll be fine.

"Peter~! You've got that mean look on your face again! Lighten up, buddy! Eat some food, you look like you need it!" Joker grabs my cheeks, trying to force me into a smile.

"Leave me alone, Michael," I growl at him. I'm not normally rude. Actually, I take that back. I fully admit to my sarcastic and brash nature, but I'm not usually this pissy. It's just that I have been here for years, almost longer than anyone else, and some bratty little kid walks on in and essentially tells us all to go screw ourselves. Okay, so he only really said that to Alois. And maybe Alois deserves it. But that doesn't matter! He's not going to make me any more miserable then I already am. I'm not gonna let him.

"Hey now, let's not go calling people names~! It's Joker, and you know it!" Joker smiles brightly at me before turning away from me to the approaching people.

"Hello everyone. As you know, we received a new patient today. His name is Ciel Phantomhive," Sebastian addresses us before turning to Ciel. "Ciel, these are the other patients that you will be living with. I will have Michael introduce you to everyone, for I must go and prepare for my next session." He turns to me, "Don't forget, Peter. Straight to my office after dinner."

"Yeah yeah, whatever." I roll my eyes. Miss one session and you never live it down. It's not like I need them. I'm way past fixing. See, you can break a plate and glue it together but it won't be the same. You can break a plate and then incinerate it and it won't be anything. That's me. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. And I'm okay with that.

"Alrighty! Ciel it is so nice to meet you! I am Joker, the one and only. You've already met Alois, the kid you so sweetly burned earlier. Then there is Beast, our residential whore, Snake, our residential serial killer, Jumbo, our residential giant, Dagger, our residential idiot, Peter, our residential sourpuss, and Wendy, our residential cutie. Questions?" Joker introduced us one by one, offending the majority in the process. Beast was shooting looks that could kill, though it's not like Joker was wrong in his description of her. She was a whore in more ways than one. Hell, she even tried to spread her legs for good old Doctor Michaelis. I don't know if her left leg has ever met her right. Dagger's introduction wasn't any less spot on. He's a bumbling fool and the only one Beast hasn't tried to bang, which of course made him want her even more. The dumb bastard is probably the only man alive who would fuck the bitch. Just goes to prove how fucking stupid he is.

Snake isn't actually a serial killer. He's just quiet, unsettlingly so. With that and his obsession with his imaginary friends, it's no wonder everyone thinks he's a serial killer. He's probably more psychotic than the rest of us, but then again, Jumbo never talks either. Just as Joker said, Jumbo is a giant. Though, Jumbo would never hurt a fly. He's our personal BFG.

Then there was Wendy. My beautiful little sister. By little I mean a few minutes, but it counts. She means the fucking world to me, and I can't help but feel responsible for what happened to her. If I had been able to help...

"Peter! Stop fucking frowning, you'll get wrinkles," Joker teased. If there is anyone I hate in this hell hole its him. Not because he's annoying, even though he most certainly is. Hes the only other person Wendy has ever spoken to besides me. And that fucking kills. Not that I'm not happy for my sister, she deserves to have more than just a brooding brother to talk to. I just get this twisty feeling whenever she smiles at him. I don't know how to describe it. I just hate that he gets to bond with her too.

Tightrope

"So you're jealous of Michael?" Michaelis asks, tapping his number two pencil against his chin.

"What the fuck!? No I'm not jealous of that fool. I'm just..." my voice trailed off. What was I feeling? Was it really jealousy?

"Peter, it's okay to feel jealous. Its human nature. Just keep in mind that just because your sister has a new friend doesn't mean she loves you any less."

"I know, I know. I dont want to talk about it anymore. Just the mere thought of the fucking lunatic makes me want to hurl." I crossed my arms and closed my eyes. I fucking hated that pain in the ass.

"Then what do you want to talk about? Maybe the reason you are here to begin with?" Dr. Michaelis repositioned himself in his chair. I opened my eyes.

"Whats the point in talking about it? I'm already so far gone. It wouldn't make any difference." I sigh.

"Peter you've been here for three months now and you still refuse to talk about it. You can't say I can't help you if you haven't given me the chance to try."

"Why would I tell you anything? You get paid whether you fix me or not. Why do you give a fuck?"

"Why don't you care, Peter? Why don't you want to go back to the real world? Back to freedom? Why don't you want to help yourself?"

"I'm done here." I got up out of my chair and left the room. He isn't worth my time. No one is. No one but Wendy.


	3. My Sanity is Your Madness

**Chapter 3: My** **Sanity is Your Madness**

 **A/N: I know, I know, it's been forever since I've updated. And it's shorter than the others. Here are my excuses: 1.) Writers block. 2.) Student Council Parliamentarian. 3.) High school. 4.) Writers Block. I'm gonna try to get back on track, but I've never been one to update regularly. Let me know if you like this chapter.**

Some say that crazy people don't know they are crazy. That couldn't be more wrong. Almost every single person out there who is insane knows it, but whether or not they accept it or come to terms with it is another story. I _know_ I am batshit insane and I wouldn't want it any other way. It's a badge of honour for me. It shows that I've been through hell and back, with bumps and bruises yes, but I made it back nonetheless. I cherish my insanity, it's the only thing I have left to be proud of.

You're probably thinking, 'What the fuck, this kid is _proud_ to be insane?' Hell yeah I am. It was the one thing I was the best at. I had the most meds, the most orderlies, and the strictest rules. I was a flight risk and a fight risk. No one so much as breathed in my direction for fear of losing an eye. Hehe, I sure showed that bitch. But now I'm not the top dog anymore, thanks to that stupid Phantomhive brat.

Oh that kid pissed me off. Day one and he is walking around here like he owns the damn place? No, this is my territory and that little shit better get ready for the long ass road ahead of him because I am going to make damn sure that it fucking sucks balls. Though, the kid is pretty cute. Maybe after I break him I can make him my bitch. Oh those doe eyes will look so damn pretty kneeling in front of me, looking up at me, _begging_ me. Just the thought makes me need a long, cold shower.

But how to break that pretty face? He can't be too strong, for that idiot Michaelis had to save his ass from my fist, but then again I can't underestimate him. He may be weak where I am strong, but there is no doubt that he is the slightest bit smarter than me. Emphasis on _slightest._ I'll have to find out more, why is he here, what makes him tick, how does he react, how is he being treated?

If it's pills then that will be easy. I'll have Hannah switch out his meds to make him loopy, disconnected, and all the more willing to submit to me...that is if he actually takes them. Electro will be a little more difficult since Faustus runs that area, but hopefully a good fuck or two will get him to do my bidding. However, hypnosis would be the most difficult, for Michaelis would have complete control of that and God knows how much he despises me. But the feeling is mutual so I don't really care.

"Alois! The session started ten minutes ago, hurry up and get your ass to Michaelis' office before he puts you on watch!" Joker shouted at me, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"Shut up Joker, I'm going now!"

Tightrope

"Guess who~!"

Michaelis pulled open the door and raised his eyebrow, "Late again, ?"

"You know it!" I brush past the doctor and made my way to the couch. I plopped down, swinging my legs onto the plush cushions and draping my arm on top of the back. "So, what are we going to explore today, Doc? Maybe my anger issues? Or how about my abusive tendencies? Or maybe we can talk about the grief of losing my brother in the same disaster that killed everyone in my town? Take your pic, there is plenty to choose from."

Dr. Michaelis walked over to his desk, which is oddly cleaner than normal, and sat down, spinning his chair to face me. "Actually, I was thinking we'd talk about the fight you instigated earlier this evening. What was your reasoning for antagonizing a fellow patient?"

I scoffed, "That newbie needed to learn his place. Just some basic bitch training, that's all. Nothing you need to worry your dusty little brain about."

Michaelis glared at me, "You know what, maybe we should talk about your entitlement issues. You aren't the king of this place, Trancy. Sure, you are the worst case here, but that isn't something to be proud of. You should want to see more than white walls, you should want to know more than just pills and therapy. Why do you hold onto your disabilities with such ferocity?"

I shake my head, "I wouldn't expect you to understand. You're perfect, right? Completely sane, completely normal. But what you don't get, Michaelis, is that my crazy is _my_ normal. This is who I am. This is all I've ever known and I will be damned if I let a perfect little bitch like you take that away from me."

"But don't you want to see the sky again? Breathe fresh air? Meet new people and do new things? I'm not asking you to change who you are, just adjust it. Manipulate your insanity to where it is safe for everyone else to experience. Work on your anger. Work on your presence. Why is that too much to ask of you?" Michaelis tilts his head to the side, daring me to answer his dumbass question.

"You know just as well as I do that that isn't how it works for me. You don't just cure PTSD, you dipshit. You call yourself a doctor? YOU'RE AN IDIOT! This is something that I am FORCED to live with. So yeah, of course I want to see the sky. Of course I want to breathe fresh air. Of course I want to meet people and do things, but I can't. You know that, and you are taunting me. I will warn you now, Michaelis, that if you keep pressing my buttons, something is gonna blow up and you will have one less eye in your head. Got it?" I fumed.

Michaelis sighed, "Well then I guess that's that then. It's almost curfew, you are dismissed, Make your way to your room, Trancy. I'll call ahead and tell them to expect you. No detours Trancy, and stay away from Phantomhive, understood?"

I saluted him, "Yessir. I hear you loud and clear, pay a visit to Phantomhive, I got you sir. Have a nice night, sir," I mocked as I marched out the door. I hear Michaelis call after me as I sprint down the hall. As I turn the corner, I run smack into something hard.

"Oomphf! Trancy! Watch where you are going!" My cerulean eyes lock with gold as I step backwards.

"Claude! It's been forever hasn't it? How have you been? Me? Oh, I've been great. Fantastic even! Isn't that just wonderful?" I ramble on, watching his eyebrows twitch in frustration.

"Shut up, Trancy. Doctor Michaelis called me to escort you back to your room. Follow me." Claude turns on his heel, walking towards the patient's boarding area.

"Oh! Wait for me, Claudy! Have you met the new patient? He's a brat, let me tell you. Quite annoying, that one. You know-" Claude cuts me off.

"Quietly, Trancy. Follow me quietly." I roll my eyes and pout.

"You're no fun…"

Tightrope

 **A/N: There it is! Hope it was somewhat worth the wait! Follow, Favourite, Review! -NikkiJ**


	4. Smile

**Chapter Four: Smile**

To whom this rhyme could possibly concern

I do think it's time you sit down and learn

The meaning of being truly insane

How every little thing gets twisted in your brain

How everything gets broken and cracked

Until the little voice inside you snaps

And puts all of the mess away

And teaches you the real meaning of play

My voice tells me that now is the time

To preach to you this little rhyme

On how to survive inside this place

The only way, my friend is to put a smile

On that face!


	5. Don't Kill Beauty

Oh look! It's my turn! Goody goody goody, I get a chapter all to myself! Now I know, I know, there is the whole fourth wall "you break it you buy it" thing, but I personally like to get to know people before I subconsciously spill my deepest, most secret thoughts to people. That sounds fair, right? I mean, that I should be able to pick your brain since you're picking mine? So, here are a few of my questions!

Of course to start I need to know your name! Mine is Michael Ray, but that name is so lame, right? That's why I nicknamed myself Joker, cuz I'm funny like that! Okay, second question, and you don't really have to answer, but why are you here? Are you here because you are entertained by people's pain, by my pain? Or are you here because you know that there is a part of you, however small that part might be, that is insane too? Either way you have definitely come to the right place! Okay, now that we know each other, I say we get right to the good stuff. The backstory! You don't mind if I narrate it right? I think it will be a LOT more fun that way!

So it all started on one dreary Monday evening, with Amanda Ray screaming in agony. 'Make it stop!' she screamed, 'make it stop!' My mother surely was a pathetic woman, right? Screaming about stopping the son of her first -and only- child's birth? Lame, right? Did I get you? Did I scare you? Oh goodness, I am such a little prankster!

Okay okay, seriously though. The story does start with screaming, just not my mother's. No, she was already long gone by this point. Instead, it was my screaming. But I didn't tell anyone to 'make it stop'. No, no, no, I was telling him to keep going. To jam that knife right into the bitch's gut over and over again, because I loved the feeling of knowing that a life was disappearing right before my eyes. No idiot! I didn't let him kill my mom! I'm not _that_ cruel.

But yeah, I'm crayzee. People think I'm the nice one, the sweet one, and I find that funny as hell. Sure I'm nice and adorable on the outside, but I think all of the shrinks will agree that I am the number one crazy in this looney bin. Alois and Ciel can pretend and pretend all they want, but I'm the bitch to watch. Well, mentally anyway. I'd never hurt a person, ever. And I never have. I just refuse to prevent people getting hurt. Because pain is beautiful and I will never kill beauty.

Oh wow, I just got really bored with you people. No offense intended, but I have a really short attention span and my time spent talking to you has exceeded my limit. I guess it's back to third person boringness. I know, I know, you'll miss me. But I promise I'll be back when I start to care again. Kay, thanks, bye.

Tightrope

She cried. But she cried so softly that no one could tell. No one but him. He saw the way her face twisted with sadness, the way her eyes flinched with pain. He knew she was hurting. And he loved every second of it.

He wasn't the cause of her pain. In fact, he had no idea what made the stunningly average girl so upset. But he didn't care to know. He just wanted to relish the fact that there was someone out there who hurt. Just like him.

His father was an evil man, whether or not his son chose to acknowledge it. Actually, to the boy, his father hung the moon and made the stars. His father created him, saved him, loved him, and no one could tell him otherwise. He was the all-knowing godlike figure to this boy. The person who prevented the destruction and agony that would otherwise befall the boy. The boy saw nothing but good in the man. However, the rest of the world didn't agree.

His father was into some bad dealings. Selling so many things, so many evil things, be it drugs, weapons, or people. He sold it all. And none of it went to good people. His father caused so much destruction and agony in the outside world, a world that the boy was not allowed to see for it could taint his impression of his father. Make him think just like everyone else.

His father was a murderer. A drug lord. A sex trafficker. But to his son, he was everything and the boy's father did not want that to change. Because in a world of darkness and greed, his father needed some light and humility. And his boy gave him that.

The boy's father loved his son so much that he wanted another child. He brought home a sister for the boy, for two lights were better than one. However, the girl wasn't like the boy. The girl didn't like her father. When the boy asked her why, she refused to answer him. She never talked to him at all. Not a single sound.

He didn't know her story. And he wasn't too sure if he wanted to. He wasn't sure if he cared. But he was sure that she didn't belong there, with him. She didn't appreciate his father like he did. She didn't _love_ his father like he did. Therefore he wanted nothing to do with her. Because he was sure, absolutely sure, that she was the reason his father got taken away.

Bright lights flooded his bedroom, marking the moment his life would change forever. Loud, screeching sirens assaulted his ears, making his heart pound uncontrollably. He didn't understand. He was so confused. He heard his father shouting for the him. He shot out of his bed and ran to his father. He heard his father talking quickly to him. Apologies, well wishes, love. But he didn't understand. What was happening?

His father quickly whipped around to find the boy's sister walking into the room. His father grabbed her by the neck and threw her against a wall. Reaching into his pocket, the boy's father pulled out a shiny, sharp object and thrusted the beautiful thing right into the girl's abdomen. The girl's eyes shot open, a high pitched screech leaving her mouth. And the boy watched, watched as his father repeatedly stabbed the girl in the stomach mercilessly. Eventually the girls screeches turn into whimpers, her eyes slowly drooping before closing altogether. The boy's father then used the knife to slit her throat, making sure that the little girl, the boy's sister, would never breathe again.

The boy watched with wide eyes. But there was no fear traceable, no panic, no sadness. In fact, the boy's eyes were filled with joy, excitement, pleasure. The damn bitch deserved everything she got, and she got it in a beautiful way. Her screams were music to his ears, her expression the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His father's actions were never ones he wanted to repeat, but the girl's reactions were surely ones he would love to see again.


End file.
